redskull

Today were going to look at another one of Frankie Stubb's masterworks, just because absolutely nothing is going on in my life that could possibly interest anyone:

I have a pot full of coins and above it hangs a picture of a brother and a sister, there's been a wedding.
Black painted floorboards and a stench like wet cardboard. This is the dead smell of another winter.

I don't want to be bound up like books. I dont want to be a sad memory of a place. They are bound up like books, I dont want to be a picture frame.

A house full of things. Some of which they hadnt seen since they bought the sodding things in 1980 something. And if their place had a little more space and a little less waste that would be something.
And if only their house looked like those in the books, and if only their cupboards looked like Mother Hubbard's.
No book in this house went unread. An old cup an old plate and in this house everything seems absolutely out of place.
There were pictures on the walls, just to ride the faults, there were pictures on walls and a friendly old ghost that'll haunt me to the day that I die.

I have a pot full of coins and above it hangs a picture of a brother and a sister.